


dusk

by crossingwinter



Series: Star Wars Drabbles & Ficlets [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, This is the first reylo thing I ever wrote so enjoy if you missed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: maybe it’s because it’s dusk–when it’s neither light nor dark–that they break.





	dusk

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted over in [just you.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13229922/) but I got indecisive and decided to break it out into its own oneshot.

maybe it’s because it’s dusk–when it’s neither light nor dark–that they break.

break is the wrong word. 

break implies broken.  break implies damage done, pain caused.  it’s an unbreaking really.  they were both broken, both alone.

and now they’re not.

it starts with rey reaching for his hand.  they are standing facing one another, and she can hear the quiet of his breathing and little else.  things go quiet when it’s just the two of them–they have since they started appearing to one another.  but now they are together–truly together–and it’s quiet too.  no quiet hum of the ship around them–just the sound of his breath the way it…catches when her hand finds his.

he looks down at her hand, then back up.  and the dusk takes over.

his height is inconvenient, rey thinks as he stoops to kiss her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek as their lips move together.  (his other hand, she notes, stays clasped in hers.  his grip is strong, but she can feel him trembling.)  she finds herself rising to the tips of her toes to meet his touch, but it doesn’t make enough of a difference.  she wraps her free arm up and around his neck, holding herself closer to him.  (his hand is trembling. his heart is trembling too.  is hers? it would only seem fair.)

his lips are slow at first–not gentle so much as cautious.  she is not sure there’s a gentle bone in his body.  she has seen softness in his eyes–that is not the same–a moment of calm in a storm–the eye of the hurricane.  but when she pulls herself closer to him, his lips part and his tongue slides against hers and she feels heat, she feels her heart pounding as his thumb brushes across her cheek and he begins to walk her backwards towards a wall.  

they move as one.  she’s used to that.  fighting him in the snow, or fighting at his side in the bridge of snoke’s flagship.  they anticipate one another–they always have.  it’s what made it all seem fated.  it’s what makes it all seem real.  so when her back touches the wall and he presses against her, of course she’s going to let go of his hand and pull herself up slightly as he bends his knees, his hips connecting with hers just enough that he can use them to push her closer to him.  his torso is still too long, but at least her face is closer to his now as she wraps her arms around his neck, wraps her legs around his hips and kisses him as hard as she can.

his lips are rougher against hers now–bruising almost.  but of course they would be.  there’s not a gentle bone in his body, and she is sure–so very sure–that even a kiss is a battle for him.   _i want you to join me_ , he’d said, hand extended.  but she hadn’t.  and now they were here, him panting into her mouth as his hands traced up and down her sides, unsure where to settle and wanting to feel everything.  

she can feel every muscle in his chest, every bone in his body.  and she’s sure he can feel her the same way.  the thought makes her breath hitch, makes her smile into his lips.

she doesn’t know what to call him, she realizes.  kylo, the name she hates, or ben, the name he hates…neither seems to fit.  perhaps it’s because it’s dusk.  one is light, one is dark, and dusk is neither.

his lips leave hers, kissing along her jaw, sucking at the skin of her neck.  his hands settle at her waist and his fingers dig into her skin there and she finds herself gasping and rocking her hips against his.  the movement is so delightful, and the subtle arcing of it is enough that her chest rubs against his too.  her fingers fist in his hair, so much easier to grab now with his lips at his neck, and she feels heat flaring inside her–life and warmth and ben.  

ben, she decides on.  it’s what she called him on the bridge when he killed snoke, it’s what he’s afraid to be.  ben solo–son of a hero and a princess.  even his name is a vestige of a past that is not his, one more thing that predates him, his uncle’s first teacher.  but he’s ben to her, ben with the soft eyes and the fear because he is so afraid.  barely more than a scared boy.

he growls into her neck as though he knew she’d thought him a boy and was determined that she put that thought from her mind.  he is moving too now–they’re moving together, her against him, him against her, him with her, her with him–and just the wall behind them.  his movement knocks the air out of her, or maybe that’s the heat in her heart, she can’t really tell, and her fingers tighten in his hair as she clings to him.  she feels him stiffen between her legs as he drags his lips over her neck to the other side and then back up to find her lips again.  even when she’s fighting she doesn’t know if her heart has ever pounded this hard.  

it has grown fully dark now and he goes still, pulling his lips from hers.  his face is in shadow–the only part of him that she can see is a faint flicker of light in his eyes–light, she thinks, that might be reflected in hers.

she runs a hand over his cheek, over the scar she’d cut there in the snow.  she pushes herself away from the wall to kiss her way along it.  he’d deserved that cut for what he’d done to finn, what he’d done to everyone.  it’s what made him that person in the first place she’d kiss away if she could.   _you are more than you thought you were,_ she wants to tell him.  and she will one day, when she thinks he can hear it without shaking, without lashing out.  instead she kisses her way up and down his cheek until he turns his lips to hers again and the wall is gone from her back, and his hands are under her ass as he carries her across the room to the bed.  

he’s hovering over her now.  where she’d felt every inch of him pressed between him and the wall, now the touch of him is lighter.  lighter, but not light.  his chest rubs against hers, his hips rub against hers, his lips rub against hers and rey finds that she can use her hands now that she doesn’t need to hold onto him for balance.  her hands run along his back, cup his ass, hold onto his hip for a moment before sliding up his chest.  she finds the fastenings of his shirt and pulls at them until the shirt is unfastened.  he sits back on his knees and shrugs it off and rey–ever quick–sits up to kiss her way across his chest.  

she tastes the salt of his sweat.  she feels the beating of his heart against her lips.  she nips at the skin there, just above his heart as his hands tug at the knots in her hair, pulling it loose and weaving through it.  

rey kisses her way up his chest to his neck, pulling herself up so that she’s straddling him as he kneels there.  she wraps her arms around him and he wraps his arms around her and they hold one another for a moment, lips moving at one another’s necks more for something to do as she feels the heat rolling off his bared chest.  her lips find his cheek, find his eyebrow, find his nose, find his lips and his fingers tighten at her back for a moment.  then they move.

his hands are at the hem of her tunic and he’s tugging it up, up, over her head.  the wrappings she wears underneath the tunic–he’s finding the seam of them and tugging them loose and rey leans back and helps him pull them from her.  then his lips are at her breasts, pushing her back down against the bed, sucking her nipple between his teeth, rolling it with his tongue.  he settles over her as he licks, her tugging her other nipple between his fingers and rey moans and bucks her hips against his chest, twining her fingers in his hair.  her breath is dry in her throat and coming unevenly from her lungs, and ben–ben…

ben is kissing his way down her stomach now, down to the hem of her trousers.  he looks up at her as he begins to unfasten her belt and she sees his eyes gleam in the dark.   _is he asking?_ she wonders.  he hasn’t said a word since dusk.   _he’s afraid to say a word,_ she thinks, she knows.  he’s so often afraid to speak when it matters most to him.

she helps him shuck off her trousers then sits up before he can move.  she gets to her knees and she can feel his eyes on her, dripping over her breasts, her hips, the tuft of brown hair over her sex.  he doesn’t move–he just looks at her and rey reaches out a hand and takes his.

it’s enough.

his lips crash against hers and the heat of his chest against hers is unlike any fire she’s sat beside, unlike the heat of the dry jakku sun, unlike anything.  ben burns against her, one moment his hands at her hips, the next at her breasts, the next against her cheeks, in her hair and rey is gasping as her heart races in time with his.  she finds the top of his trousers and begins to shove them down first with her hands and then, when she can’t reach anymore, curling her legs up and using her feet to pull them down his legs.  where he’d watched her in her nakedness, she  _feels_  him–feels the curling hair at the base of his cock, feels his soft skin as her hand circles around the length of him.  he groans into her lips and his hands are gone–one elbow by her head to hold him up and the other hand sliding down between her legs to circle her wet sex.  

he slides two fingers into her as she pumps at his cock, then a third and she gasps, “ben.”  

he goes still for just a moment, his face hovering over hers.  she reaches a hand up to caress his cheek and even through the darkness she can see the edginess in his gaze.   _i won’t call you kylo,_ she thinks.   _that’s not you.  ben may not be either, but kylo…_

he turns his head and presses his lips to her palm.  it’s a surprisingly deep kiss.  she feels him pull his fingers out of her.  he fumbles between them for a moment, his hand connecting with hers around his cock.  he peels her fingers away.  his eyes are locked on hers as he presses into her to the hilt.

there’s not a gentle bone in his body.  she’s always known this about him, but she’s never felt it in quite this way as he thrusts into her again and again.  he’s always been strong, and fast, and there’s a wildness to him–a frantic, chaotic energy as he drives his cock deeper and deeper into her.  he is curved over her–his long torso pulled away from her so that his lips can find hers as their hips rock together.  

he is so inconveniently tall.

and rey pushes against his chest, rolls him onto his back and straddles him, bending down to kiss his neck, the tips of her breasts brushing against the skin of his chest and ben grabs her hips, fingers digging into the muscle there as he thrusts into her faster, and faster.  she likes this position more, she thinks.  she likes the feel of him within her.  it feels right, perfect in a way she’d never have dreamed.  or maybe she would have–maybe she had after he’d started appearing to her in visions.  she had grown so used to the sight of him, had grown accustomed to his face, and now she doesn’t want to look away from him, not ever.  she likes looking up and seeing him watching her, his eyes so very bright–almost too bright in the darkness.  

she watches him as she starts to move her hips against his even faster, locks her eyes with his as his cock strikes a part deep inside her that makes her whine in some sort of pleasure.  she’s watching him as his breathing grows heavier, as his eyes grow more hooded, watches him as the breath catches in her throat and her slit grows so hot and her muscles grow weak before they start to convulse along her core, along her spine, and deep down inside her, right where she’s encased him.  he’s watching as she falls apart, watching when she bites her lip so not to call him “ben,” and make him edgy again.

she does her best not to collapse on top of him.  the flesh of her sex is tender but he’s not finished yet.  she presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, and he flips her back onto her back.  but he doesn’t bend to kiss her this time.  he stays on his knees, keeps his hands at her hips, and grinds against her, and rey lets her eyes travel from where they are connected up his chest to his eyes.  

they’re still overbright, and she realizes with a jolt that it’s not just sweat on his face.  

rey props herself up on her elbows, then pushes herself to sitting, as ben slows between her legs, his brow furrowed as though unsure of what she’s doing.  it’s an awkward motion, going from lying there to pulling herself up so that she’s straddling him again as he kneels there.  she shifts her hips back and forth ever so slightly as she kisses first one cheek, and the other, tasting the salt of his tears on her lips.  then, at last, she slides her tongue between his lips and he lets out a groan like a wounded animal and she feels wet heat between her legs as he comes.  

she holds him has his breathing grows more steady, as his heart rate stills, as he trembles in her arms.  she holds him in the darkness, holds him until he’s ready to move.  he pulls himself out of her and she feels oddly empty.  she shouldn’t.  but she does.  she does not dwell on it though.

there will be more dusks like this one.  she knows that somehow.  and she’ll hold him until then.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this, come say hi over on my [tumblr](http://galacticprideandprejudice.tumblr.com)!


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